Patchwork heart…

Cyranny's Cove

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I couldn’t blame you
How would I dare?
Quite honestly
It’s only fair…
My heart’s been broken
A couple of times,
And half mended by
Very clumsy hands.
It’s missing a few parts
Sorry puzzle… incomplete
Sometimes
It even skips a beat.
But that would be
Your fault, my Dear…
For it always longs
Your voice to hear,
And even if you want
To have nothing of that,
You still do own
My patchwork heart!

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Sometimes Is Enough

Sarah Doughty

“Being with you. In your arms.
Those are the moments I crave.”

Sometimes, when I least expect it, you pop up in my mind. Like someone changed the channel on the radio. Sometimes, my dreams drift to you, like you’re a magnet and our story is long from over. Sometimes, I revel in those dreams, allowing myself to be in those moments with you. Being free and open. Being with you. In your arms. Those are the moments I crave, even though you’re far from here. Sometimes, I wish those dreams were a reality.

But then again, sometimes, I know dreams are only meant to stay that way.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

And sometimes,
it breaks my heart all over again.

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You bring me home…

Her Writing Haven

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For everyone here on WordPress, this is what you do to me whenever I read your lovely words.  Thank you for always inspiring me and leaving me feeling comforted and loved.  It’s this community that really brings me home.

Oh the feeling
When I read such words
The kind that touch my soul
It’s pure bliss
Orgasmic
Mind-blowing
Genius
And I just want to shout out
My unfeigned amazement
From the rooftops
Every time you write

It’s like a mother
Who watches her child
Take their first step
Excitement and pride
Respect and elation
Gratitude and wonderment
They all flood my chest
Puffing it up
With crisp memories
Of bygone days
The ones you leave me remembering
The ones I want to hold on to
Gripping tight to those nostalgic days
Because I fear letting go

After all, I may never remember
Those precious nuggets of time
The ones that…

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Drastic Surgery

Poems from Walsall Poet Richard Archer

You carefully choose your words
like a surgeon selects a scalpel,
then smiling you begin to slice
easily exposing my defenceless heart.
You lie saying all you desire is
to find the real me, when
your actual motive is
to eviscerate all in me you hate.

You leave what’s left of my essence
congealing, piled in a heap
ready to be burnt.
Then you lay down your scalpel
reach for needle and thread
and sew yourself inside me.

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